“Jim Mathis,” Morrie said, his eyes glinting. “She hired Jim Mathis, a crook-turned-assassin.”
“That’s it! She probably met up with Jim that morning, gave him the scarf, and told him to catch up with Danny. But how did she know Jim? Wouldn’t he hate her if she was Danny’s wife? And it doesn’t explain how she could call him at the funeral if you were watching her the whole time.”
“She went to the kitchen!” Morrie cried. “While you were gone, she ducked into the kitchen to check the brand of the coffee they used. Apparently, it didn’t meet her standards. I couldn’t follow her without arousing suspicions. She was only gone a few moments, but it was long enough to make a quick phone call.”
“So that’s it. Jim called Penny. He was having second thoughts because of the attention on Danny. But she insisted. So Jim came back, lured Brian into the Bible Study room, and garroted him.”
“I bet Jim took great pleasure in garroting Danny,” Morrie exclaimed, relishing the gory details of the case. “And then turning up to the writer’s workshop afterward to gloat over his deed.”
“But what’s her motive for Brian?”
“He read the manuscript, so he knew the truth about her,” I said. “She intended to silence him.”
“You’re so hot when you’re unraveling a sordid murder,” Morrie’s lips grazed mine. I collapsed against him, allowing the kiss to deepen.
The air around us charged with electricity. Reluctantly, I pulled away and turned back to the computer. “If all this is true, then why delete the memoir? There must’ve been something in it Penny didn’t want anyone to see. Some evidence that will convict her. Can you retrieve any of it?”
“Doesn’t look like it…” Morrie pounded the keys. “No, wait… I can restore an earlier version. It won’t have some of his recent edits, but there might be something.”
I waited with my heart pounding as Morrie pounded at the keys. His leg jiggled with excitement. A few minutes later, he yelled in triumph. His eyes flickered across the page. “It’s a memoir, all right… I can’t wait to devour this. Danny Sledge has had a sordid life of criminal misdeeds, just my kind of fella… hang on. I’ve found something.”
Morrie tapped the screen. “Danny’s describing a girlfriend of his. ‘I met Penny in the summer of that year, what was to be one of the most important years of my life. She was sixteen, but she dressed and talked like she was twenty-five. I was utterly smitten with her airs and graces. Jim was, too. We fought over her, like we fought over all the girls. Unlike Abigail, who didn’t want to choose, Penny chose me. I won, haha. Take that, Jimmy!’”
“So Penny met Danny back when he was a crook,” I breathed. Suddenly, it came to me. I reached into my pocket for the newspaper article, but it wasn’t there. I remembered that I’d read it downstairs yesterday. I’d probably left it on Heathcliff’s desk. “I bet you anything that article was about her. And she knew Jimmy, too. She would have recognized him at the event, even if Danny was too distracted to notice—”
Morrie nodded as he kept reading. “It’s all here. All about Penny going down for dealing drugs. When she came out of the young offenders institution, Danny had turned over Jim and was going straight. He says Penny’s parents were rich toffs who paid a lot of money to keep her name out of the papers and make sure her crime didn’t end up on her permanent record.”
“That’s what was going on here,” I breathed. “Penny must’ve read Danny’s memoirs. She knew that if he published it, her secret would be out. You’ve seen how much she cares about the ‘airs and graces.’ She’d be mortified if all her literati London friends knew she used to be a drug dealing delinquent. She killed Danny to stop the memoir, and Brian, because he had read it.”
“Danny said that he usually showed his work to Angus, as well,” Morrie pointed out.
“That means that Angus is in danger, too.” I grabbed up my coat and tote bag. Morrie stood up, but I was already running for the door. “Call the police,” I cried.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“I’ve got to go see a woman about a scarf.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“I need that newspaper article,” I called out as I clattered down the stairs.
“Hello to you, too.” Heathcliff shot back as I rushed into the main room.
“No time for hellos.” I shuffled through the stack of papers and paperbacks on the desk. Where is it? “I need to find that article and get it to the police.”
“It’s not here. Someone called for you. About an hour ago.”
“Who?”
Heathcliff shrugged. “Dunno. They didn’t leave a name. It was a woman.”
“Was it Mum?” She’d come home from the hospital yesterday with a bit of a headache but otherwise fine. I’d been intending to go and visit her after work. Hopefully, she hadn’t got herself into more trouble, but I knew that was too much to wish for.
Heathcliff shrugged again.
“You’re no bloody help.” I was searching under the desk when I remembered, I’d taken it home last night to look at, but then Jo and I hit the wine and I’d forgotten about it. Sighing with annoyance, I fished my keys out of my purse.
“I’m going over to the flat,” I said. “We know Penny Sledge committed the murders, and the article proves it. Morrie’s heading out to watch her, make sure she doesn’t murder anyone else. I need you to find Jim Mathis – we think she’s hired him to do her killing for her. Or find Angus Donahue – he’s going to be the next victim.”
Heathcliff stood up. “I’m not leaving your side when there’s a murderer out there.”
“I’m just going from my flat to the police station. I’ll be fine. I’ll take Quoth with me if it’s really important.”
Heathcliff shook his head. “Quoth left to take his application over to the art school. This is the problem when he gets ideas above his station. He’s not here when we need him.”
“Don’t say that! Quoth deserves this.” I peered in the corner, where Grimalkin sat on the velvet chair in cat form, delicately washing her anus. “Grimalkin will come with me.”
“Meeeow.” Grimalkin stretched her neck up and shot me a look that clearly said, ‘don’t bother me. I’m busy with Important Cat Business.’
Heathcliff frowned at the cat. “What’s she going to do if someone comes at you with a garrote?”
“Scratch their eyes out, hopefully.” I picked up a protesting Grimalkin and dumped her in my oversized tote bag. “Besides, I’m hardly unprotected if you and Morrie are watching the two murderers. Now, get going! Morrie’s hacking Jim’s phone right now. He’ll come down as soon as he has a location for you.”
“I don’t like this!” Heathcliff yelled after me as I fled the shop.
“Get Morrie to kiss it better!” I yelled back, slamming the door behind me.
As I jogged toward the flat, Grimalkin howling in protest and swiping at my arm, I dialed Jo’s number. “Hey, Jo. Are you busy?”
“Just about to start some analysis on the murder weapon.”
“I might be able to save you some time. I remember where I’ve seen that black cloth before. It’s Penny Sledge’s mourning veil.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. She was wearing it during the service. Morrie noticed it, and I saw it on her as she walked past me. But when she was giving her statement to Hayes, she wasn’t wearing it.”
“Hmmmm.” Jo said. “That’s interesting. Thanks, Mina. I’ll tell Hayes.”
“Tell him that Penny’s the murderer, and I have something that’ll prove it. I’m heading home to get it now, and I’ll bring it right over to the station,” I said.
“Oooh, intrigue. Just don’t touch anything on the second shelf down in the fridge. I’m doing an experiment on flesh-eating microbes and if you eat the Cornish pastie, you’ll die a terrible, painful death.”
“Duly noted.”
“Oh, according to the desk sergeant, Beverly was asking about you,�
�� Jo said. “I think she really wants to talk to you. Apparently, she used her phone call to ring the bookshop, but I’m guessing Heathcliff answered.”
I groaned. That would have been the call Heathcliff got earlier. “I’ll see her at the station. It’ll be good if someone’s there when they let her out, see if she needs any help at home. I don’t think she has anyone in her life.”
“You’re a good person, Mina.”
“I try. I’m here now. Got to go.” I jogged up the steps and inserted my key into the lock. Last night when I’d come home, I’d set down the newspaper article on the kitchen table. Something about it had been bugging me, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Until now.
I rushed through the flat. Ah, yes. There it was, exactly as I remembered it. As I picked up the article and tucked it into my purse, my gaze caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
What’s that?
I stepped in front of the fireplace. Instead of the taxidermy monkey and shrunken heads that usually decorated the mantle, someone had placed a row of large bell jars. Each one contained swarms of large, disgusting bugs, all fighting over various lumps of meat and fabric.
Ants, spiders, beetles and…
Yup… those are definitely locusts.
Anger surged inside me. Jo promised no more creepy crawlies. Why would she have locusts again after what happened last time?
“That’s it.” I muttered, shoving the jars of bugs into my tote bag. They clanged against each other. I hoped they wouldn’t smash. I’d take them to Jo’s lab, which was near the station, and tell her they either had to move, or I would.
“Meoorrrrw!” Grimalkin complained as she batted at the jars.
I locked up and jogged over to the police station. I was surprised to see the duty officer slumped over the counter, sound asleep. I rang the bell in an attempt to wake him, but he didn’t stir.
“Sorry, mate, this won’t take long. I don’t want to hang around with these little critters in my bag.” I scribbled my name and details down on the visitor’s sheet, so he wouldn’t get in trouble, and slipped past him to head to Inspector Hayes’ office.
When I poked my head in, I discovered it was empty. They must’ve been out chasing a lead. I tried Hayes’ cell, but it went straight to voicemail. I set the article down on the desk, but it felt weird to just leave it. In fact, the whole station felt weird. It was eerily quiet. Must be a busy day for crime in Argleton.
I know. I’ll go down to the cells to see Beverly. I’ll tell her the good news that I’ve cleared her name. If Hayes or another officer hasn’t returned by the time I get back, I’ll leave the article with a note.
I knew my way around the precinct from that one horrible night I was sent to the cells under suspicion of Ashley’s murder. I headed down the staircase and along the dank corridor between the cells. The whole place reeked of piss.
“Beverly?” I called out. “It’s Mina Wilde. You wanted to talk to me? I’ve got good news for you. I—”
She stepped toward me, her eyes wide with panic. “Mina, get out of here!”
“But, I have to—”
“Look out!” she cried. “He’s right—”
Beverley’s cry cut off into a sob as something cold and slippery wrapped around my neck. A raspy voice whispered in my ear. “Hello, Miss Wilde.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Don’t move a muscle, Mina. Or I’ll twist this scarf and you’ll be a dead woman.”
The smooth voice echoed in my ears, impossibly loud, impossible in all ways because… he couldn’t be the killer. He had an alibi… an alibi…
Morrie read one of Danny’s earlier books. He said it was a great story where the killer used a recording to fake an alibi, and Danny got his ideas from...
“Let go of her, Angus.” Beverly hissed. “She hasn’t done anything. It’s me you really want.”
“No can do.” Angus’ voice was calm. “I need to tie up all the loose ends. When Danny told me I couldn’t read the memoir, I knew he’d figured out I was the killer. I had to stop him. Brian knew the truth too, so he had to go. And you Bev… you’re right. I did come here to finish you off. You’re a thorn in my side and you won’t stop harping on about that dead daughter of yours! How fortunate that Mina happened to be here as well. Now I’ll be able to kill two birds with one stone. Or one scarf, as it were. I’ve got this one that I picked up from the ground on the night of Danny’s reading. That will do nicely. It looks exactly like Abigail’s scarf from back in the day. I’ll make it look as though Mina broke you out of jail, and you turned on her, garroting her to death before hanging yourself in your own cell.”
His words slipped through the fog in my mind as I struggled for air, but they made no sense. Angus can’t be the killer. He can’t…
Of course. My frenzied mind pulled up all the information we’d uncovered about Abigail’s murder. I’d never even thought to suspect Angus because he was a cop… but that put him in the perfect position to try to pin the murder on Danny, and when that hadn’t worked because Danny had an alibi, to declare the case unsolved, and oh Isis…
Beverly said that DNA evidence had been inconclusive, that Angus had tried his best to find the killer, but there wasn’t enough evidence. What if there wasn’t enough evidence because Angus was covering his own tracks?
The scarf. Abigail’s scarf that the killer used to garrote Danny… Angus must’ve taken it from the police inventory. He’d kept it as a memento all these years. But why befriend Danny… and why kill Danny now… and Brian and Beverly…
Angus tightened the scarf around my throat. All my thoughts cut off as panic surged through me. My hands scrambled, searching for something, anything. Red welts appeared in front of my eyes, growing larger and punctuated by sparks of flourescent light. My head screamed.
My tote clanked against the bars as Angus lifted me. My fingers closed around something smooth and cold. Glass. The jars!
I tightened my grip. My muscles howled in protest. Even as my mind closed off and my vision blanked, I swung my arm up and slammed the glass jar into Angus’ face.
“Aaaaargh!” He screamed, releasing me. I fell to my knees, gasping for air. Angus staggered back, slapping at his skin. In the darkness, I could just make out a trail of red dots marching over his skin.
“Get them off! Get them off!” he yelled, falling to his knees. “It burns!”
“Meeeorrw!” Grimalkin strode over to him, stepping daintily over the bugs, and swiped him across the face with her claws.
My ears rung. I knew I had only moments before I passed out. I fumbled in my bag, trying to get to my phone, but I couldn’t find it amongst all the jars. “Grimalkin, get help… find Morrie…” I gasped, every word tearing at my throat. I leaned my cheek against the bars as tiny baby birds danced in circles inside my head.
Everything went black.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“I can’t believe our killer was brought down by fire ants.” Morrie leaned over and planted a languid kiss on my cheek. “You really are something, Mina Wilde.”
“Don’t crowd her!” Heathcliff boomed, shoving Morrie back into the wall.
Morrie brushed himself off and flashed Heathcliff his signature pout. “Such rough treatment from the man who’s been hovering over her like a bad smell for the last two days.”
“Can you two just hurry up and kiss again,” Quoth rolled his eyes. “It’ll cheer Mina up.”
“I agree with Quoth’s suggestion,” I said, even though the words tore at my throat. Angus had done some damage to my vocal cords, and I was supposed to be taking it easy for the next few weeks. It was going to be a difficult feat with this lot constantly in my face.
Morrie leaned forward and puckered his lips. Heathcliff tore himself away, flattening his back against the wall. Morrie’s mock-hurt expression was so adorable that I burst out laughing, which really hurt my throat.
After two days in this hospital I was going a little stir-crazy.
We all were. Heathcliff, Morrie, and Quoth hadn’t left my side, taking turns to fall asleep in the hard plastic chair beside my bed while someone stayed on duty at the shop. When visiting hours were over, Quoth hid under my bed and then flew up to perch above the door, watching over me all night.
A nurse poked her head into the room and rolled her eyes at me. “Mina Wilde, you have another guest.”
I grinned. I had been pretty popular. My room was filled with bouquets from all over the village. Mum had been in every day, covering my arms in Flourish patches which the nurses removed as soon as she left. Beverly had come in to thank me for clearing her name, and brought with her several hideous scarves from the charity shop which I would never ever wear (because they are a) hideous and b) after being nearly garroted to death no way was I wearing a scarf again). Jo came by with a giant chocolate cake made in the shape of a locust. Several villagers had stopped by to thank me for finding the murderer. Richard left me an entire case of cider (which Heathcliff insisted on taking back to the shop ‘for safekeeping’). Even Penny Sledge had been in to thank me stiffly for finding her husband’s killer. I was glad that I wasn’t supposed to talk, so I didn’t have to tell her I’d mistakenly convinced myself she was the murderer.
“You’re already over the limit,” the nurse frowned at the guys and Grimalkin hovering around my bed. “Rules are rules. I’m not letting her in until—”
“Young lady!” A familiar voice barked from the hallway. “I’ll have you know I left a rather nubile young Greek god in my hotel room on Santorini in order to visit my friend. I don’t care one whit for your rules!”
The door slammed open and Mrs. Ellis bustled inside. The nurse made a ‘hrrrmph’ noise, but retreated from the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
“Mina, dear.” Mrs. Ellis leaned over the bed and planted a hundred wet kisses on my face. “I’m so glad you’re all right. How do you always get yourself into these pickles?”
Memoirs of a Garroter (Nevermore Bookshop Mysteries Book 4) Page 19